


As the wheel turns

by Raehimura



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, I wanted to write about my own holidays for once, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pagan Festivals, Slow Burn, Snufkin gets dressed up, Yes this is an allegory and their relationship develops along the cycle of the year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raehimura/pseuds/Raehimura
Summary: Moomin and Snufkin make the journey through the wheel of the year, and slowly realize they may be more to each other than they'd ever realized.Or, an excuse to talk about my pagan holidays, while showing our mutual pining idiots eventually get together. One chapter for each holiday, a year's worth of slow burn.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	1. Yule

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully, each chapter will be posted around the actual holiday, with the obvious exception of Yule and the shortly upcoming Candlemas chapter. Then, see you at Ostara!

Another winter, another early waking from hibernation. Moomin wondered if this was going to be a tradition.

Though, as long as he eventually got back to sleep, it wasn’t the worst winter tradition to have. Seeing the valley peacefully covered in thick blankets of snow. Watching the little sparkling flakes come down outside the window and hearing nothing but the gentle susurration of ice in the air. Having the whole winter wonderland all to himself. Some things were worth waking up for.

Shaking off the last of his sleepiness, Moomin lit the candle near his bed and placed it on the windowsill, enjoying the way its steady reflection warmed up the scene outside. One little light in the long, long dark.

When he’d looked his fill, Moomin poked his head into the other rooms to check on the rest of his hibernating family. It look like this year Moomin was the only one who’d woken early. So he resolved to enjoy a solitary walk around the silent valley, saying hello to the few animals still active this late in the year, before heading out to the bathhouse to see Too Ticky.

By the time he arrived, even his thick fur wasn’t keeping out the cold, and he was grateful for the shelter of the little building on the edge of the frozen sea.

“Hullo, Moomin,” Too Ticky called, perched in front of the warm stove. A sweet smell wafted from the little pot on top. “It’s nice to see you again this year.”

“How has this winter been while we’ve all been asleep?”

“Lovely and mild this year, though still with plenty of snow. And you woke up just in time for the Midwinter bonfire.”

“Oh boy, it will be fun to see the little creatures dance again!”

“It sure will,” Too Ticky agreed, stirring lowly at the little pot. “Now what would you say to amug of drinking chocolate?”

“Oh, yes, I would that!” Moomin exclaimed. Winter sure had some lovely traditions.

They sat together in front of the humming stove, savoring the drinks slowly and enjoying the cozy moments without the need to talk. But before too long, it was time to head out to watch the bonfire. It was as lovely as last time, the great fire roaring and crackling under the drumming music, and as Moomin and Too Ticky settled in to watch the dancing of the usually invisible creatures, it didn’t seem that the Groke would be interrupting this time.

They watched for a long while, comfortable in the heat of the fire and laughing along to the joyous dancing. Moomin found himself staring into the glow of the fire, thinking of how lovely the moment was, of how much more lovely it would be to have someone else there to share it with, someone closer to him than Too Ticky. And oh, how he’d love to show this to Snufkin. He’d love the shrew mice and their dancing. Maybe he’d even play along for them. 

And the fire would reflect in his eyes and warm his pale cheeks as he played a joyous song for their joyous dance, but eventually it’d get too cold for him and he’d have to sit down and lean into Moomin’s side, but that was okay because he was warm with all his fur, and if they stayed that like for a while, well …

Oh. Oh goodness.

He had feelings for Snufkin.

He wanted to snuggle with him in front of the fire, just like Moominmamma and Moominpappa do. He wanted to hold his hand. He wanted to kiss him.

Moomin was grateful for the fire to hide his blush, for the dancing to distract Too Ticky from his sudden agitation. When had this happened? How long had he felt this way?

Would Snufkin return his feelings? He couldn’t see it. Snufkin was a good friend, but he’d never hinted at anything more. In fact, Moomin had never seen him be particularly amorous at all, with anyone. Maybe that was part of Snufkin’s nature as much as his winter travels and his songs. 

Well, it didn’t matter. Snufkin was his best friend, and he always came back to Moominvalley no matter how far he traveled, and that would have to be enough.

Moomin shivered under a sudden chilly gust and scooted a little closer to the blazing fire. He couldn’t help but feel like it had suddenly gotten colder. Maybe now would be a good time to return to his warm bed and sleep a dreamless sleep until Spring. And when he woke up Snufkin would return, and everything would be as it always was, no matter what ember of midwinter revelations he carried with him.


	2. Candlemas

It was spring in Moomin Valley. The Moomins had woken from hibernation three days ago, Snufkin had returned the day after that, and tonight was Candles Night. Moomin and Little My had spent most of the day helping Moominmamma make new candles for the year, while sneaking treats from the feast she was baking for that night's party.

It was one of Moomin’s favorite celebrations — the beginning of Spring, the end of hibernation, Snufkin’s return, snow melting and flowers starting to grow in the valley. The first food and music and dancing and time together of the new year. All of Moomin’s favorite people gathered together and having fun under the light of hundreds of candles. Could it get any better?

By the end of day, the entire cellar and much of the living room were covered in newly dipped, cooling candles. Hundreds of paper lanterns were filled with a mix of last year’s remaining candles and new one’s dipped today. The Snork, Sniff, and others from around the valley had contributed their own remaining stock of candles too. The candles were strung up all around Moomin House, glinting in the descending evening shadows over the tables filled with treats and fresh milk and even more candles.

Finally, it was time for the party. Neighbors started arriving, and Moominmamma released them to go greet their friends. The sun had set, and the sharp smell of cold was still in the air, but the grass was fresh and alive beneath their feet and the yard was ringed in warmth and light. 

Snorkmaiden oohed and ahhed over the lights as soon as she arrived, following at Moomin’s side with a cute little twinkling in her eyes. Her brother, the Snork, said his hellos and immediately settled in to drink juice and trade shop talk with Moominpappa. Sniff barely greeted them before he dove into the pastries and sweets laid out on the overflowing tables. Little My was swanning around somewhere, and even Stinky seemed to be behaving himself. 

Moomin had wandered the little crowd and said hello to Mr. Hemulan, Mrs. Fillyjonk, the Police Inspector, Too-Ticky and what felt like the whole of Moomin Valley, but he still hadn’t caught sight of the one person he was looking for most. He knew Snufkin wasn’t always the most comfortable at parties, and being in large crowds wasn’t his favorite way to spend an evening. But surely he wouldn’t miss Candles Night entirely? After all, he’d only just returned from his winter travels. Wouldn’t he want to celebrate with them?

He didn’t have too long to fret, though, as the last of the sun’s light had just left the sky when he finally caught sight of a familiar, weathered green hat.

“Snufkin!” He called, heart trip-thumping happily at the sight of his friend, still so fresh after their winter separation. It thudded even harder when Snufkin looked up at him with a little smile.

Hurrying toward him in the crowd, Moomin clapped his shoulder and whooped. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course, Moomin. Wouldn’t miss it.”

And Moomin might have been content to stand there all night trading grins with his best friend, but just then Moominmamma called everyone over to the tables for the traditional toast.

Shuffling over and crowding around the big central table with everyone else, Moomin ended up across from Snufkin, separated by heaping plates of treats and candelabras full of flickering candles.

“Oh, we’re just so happy everyone was able to join us tonight,” Moominmamma started with a titter, glancing around warmly at their gathered friends and family. “Tonight, we’re celebrating the end of winter and the beginning of spring, when the days start getting longer and all the plants and animals start waking up from winter rest. Just like us Moomins!”

As she went on, talking about the value of celebrating together and the meaning of the gathered candles, Moomin tuned out a little and let her voice wash over him. He’d heard the toasts every year, but it was still comforting to hear the familiar words and look around at everyone’s smiling faces.

One face in particular kept snagging his attention, though. A face across the table from him, bathed in the flickering light of dozens of candles, wearing a soft, almost secret smile as he gazed fondly at Moominmamma. A face limned in gold and brushed in faint pink, somehow fascinating despite each and every nook and cranny being utterly familiar.

Moomin was struck. Utterly struck, eyes caught on the sharp line of his nose, the scattering of pale freckles under his eyes, the pale skin of his cheek reflecting light like a smattering of gold leaf. Like a painting or an artifact, ancient and treasured. Moomin looked up to his eyes, green as the newly growing grass, and was still tangled in the candlelight reflected there when Snufkin turned to look back.

A shock went through him then, nose to tail, as powerful as any Hattifattener. Desperately hoping his puffed up fur and blushing cheeks weren’t noticeable in the dark, Moomin flashed him a quick smile and then hid in a too-long gulp of his milk. 

By the time he emerged from drowning his embarrassment, Snufkin was looking up at Moominmamma again as she finished off the toast. Still, even without Snufkin’s eyes on him, Moomin’s heart was racing. What was this? He’d never been embarrassed to look at Snufkin before, or to have Snufkin look at him. It wasn’t even the first time he’d looked and found him beautiful. But now, his blood seemed to be racing around his body like it couldn’t find a place to settle.

Carefully, he looked back at Snufkin and felt himself flash warm all over. He was sure his fur was still standing on end. 

This was … this was different.

He raised his glass with the others as, distantly, he heard Moominmamma say, “Like fire, wisdom, inspiration and new life will always grow — just like the first spring flowers stirring in the dark.”

This was like nothing he’d ever felt with Snorkmaiden.

“And just like these candle flames, we will always make more light and warmth when we come together.”

This was not a crush.

“Cheers!”

Moomin was in love.


	3. Ostara

Snufkin had a problem.

No, not a problem. It wasn't so big. He had a predicament. Usually, he could handle something like a predicament rather easily, or find a way to avoid it until it went away. But this predicament involved Moomin, any situation involving his best friend deserved a bit more care.

You see, today was the big Spring Party in Moomin Valley. At Moominhouse, of course. Everyone all gathered together to celebrate Spring being in full swing. The last of the snow had melted, birds were laying eggs in their nests, and all manner of colorful flowers were on full display around the valley. It put everyone, including Snufkin, in a joyous mood to see life returning with such gusto. And it seemed everyone, except Snufkin, wanted to celebrate that joy with a party.

Usually, he would only attend such a large and raucous gathering if he were in a special mood, and even then he’d often leave halfway through. It was just his way. And though Moomin always made sure to tell him how much he’d be missed, the Moomin family was ever accepting of his peculiarities.

But something was different this year. Not his lack of desire to go to a big party, unfortunately. No, something was different with Moomin.

He’d been acting … off, lately. Just a little strange. Flighty and distractible, in a way he’d never been, and even more worrisome, easily prone to embarrassment. Why, in the last week, Snufkin had said or done the wrong thing and caused an awkward flurry of embarrassment no less than four times. 

He needed to do better for his friend. Whatever was going on with Moomin, it had obviously left him in a bit of a delicate state, and Snufkin needed to be extra careful not to let his own lack of social graces upset him. And barring that, he at least needed to show Moomin that even if things were a bit weird right now, Snufkin was still his friend and still wanted to be around him.

The answer to both those goals seemed to be attending the Spring Party. Though he was sure there were plenty of opportunities for him to put his foot in his mouth and embarrass Moomin at a party, it also was the simplest way to observe more of what was going on with him and to show his support.

So Snufkin found himself straightening his tunic, putting on his hat and wandering up to Moominhouse that afternoon. 

He could already hear the music and laughter as soon as he left his tent, and he couldn’t help but smile. Despite his usual avoidance, he almost always had fun at a Moominhouse party, so long as he didn’t overstay his welcome.

Moominhouse was painted in the warm glow of afternoon sun and surrounded by bursts of vibrant color from the gathered flowers adorning every surface. Tables were laid with lemonade and hot cross buns and other treats. And there, a long table set with bowls of white eggs and paints of every color to decorate them.

Little My had obviously done some decorating already, as she had a bright red streak across her forehead when she ran by, brandishing a wet brush at Sniff. Past her, Snufkin caught sight of Moomin and Snorkmaiden, placing their own eggs on racks to dry. It wasn’t long before Moomin caught sight of him too.

“Snufkin!” he called, hurrying over with a blinding grin. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

Moomin was smiling, his normal happy self, but he stopped short of touching Snufkin’s arm like he usually would. And was that the beginnings of a blush on his face?

Snufkin tipped his hat obligingly. “Moomin, Snorkmaiden. I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.”

Snorkmaiden, apparently not suffering from whatever was afflicting Moomin, grabbed Snufkin’s hand. “Oh Snufkin, it’s so good to see you! We just finished decorating our eggs, would you like to-”

“A-actually,” Moomin interrupted, wringing his paws together and very purposefully not looking over at the eggs. “We were just about to walk the labyrinth.”

Ah yes, the labyrinth, the one thing Snufkin always appreciated about this holiday. Moominpappa had laid out smooth river stones in two lines to form a winding pathway that spiraled around and led in toward the center. Snufkin loved to walk it alone the morning after the party, in quiet contemplation. Partygoers usually walked it with some sort of song, and some even danced their way to the center.

Somehow, Snufkin doubted Moomin had a quiet walk in mind. Still. “Well, I could come with you, if that’s okay?”

Before Moomin could answer, Snorkmaiden jumped in. “Oh, the path really isn’t wide enough for three. You two go ahead,” she urged, with a strange twinkle in her eye. Then she tugged on Snufkin’s arm. “Right after Snufkin sees our lovely eggs.”

Moomin’s eyes got very round. “Oh, uh, I don’t think-”

But Snufkin had already been dragged in front of the drying racks, with Snorkmaiden leaning on his shoulder. She pointed to an egg dip-dyed in various shades of pink and purple, blending into each other in waves. “See there, that’s mine.”

Snufkin smiled at her. “It’s beautifully done, Snorkmaiden.”

She took the complement with a titter, then pointed excitedly to the egg next to it. “And that’s Moomin’s.”

Snufkin wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking at, at first, except that it was covered in lovely earth tones of brown and dark green. But peering closer, he could make out a human figure painted there. A figure wearing green, with a pointed green hat, surrounded by musical notes that wrapped around the egg.

Moomin had painted Snufkin.

He looked over at Moomin, trying to reel in the surely sappy expression on his own face. “Oh, Moomin, it’s lovely. That’s very sweet of you.”

Despite Snufkin’s attempt to keep his voice and face neutral, he could see the blush erupting on Moomin’s face from where he stood. 

“Oh, yes, well, umm … I’m glad you like it.” Moomin muttered to the ground, scratching awkwardly at the fur at his neck.

Cursing himself for not smoothing over the situation better, Snufkin figured he could at least rescue Moomin from needing to say more. He walked back to him and gestured toward the edge of the party. “Should we walk the labyrinth?”

“Yes! Yes, let’s, um, do that.” Moomin agreed eagerly, turning to follow Snufkin but not before shooting some sort of inscrutable look back at Snorkmaiden. Oh.

“Moomin, did you want to walk the labyrinth with Snorkmaiden? I don’t want to interrupt your plans.”

Moomin turned to him, gesturing frantically with his paws. “No, no way! I mean, we walk together every year, but I haven’t had a chance to go with you yet.” 

Moomin’s face settled into something like determination, no trace of the strange flighty creature he’d become, and he grabbed Snufkin’s hand. “And I’m going to make sure you have a properly fun time this year.”

With a laugh, Moomin pulled Snufkin into the start of the stone spiral, setting them on a pace that was half skipping and half dancing, humming a familiar tune under his breath. Snufkin let himself be swept along, his hand grasped in Moomin’s warm paw, laughing as they danced along the path, relieved to have his Moomin back.

Soon, they’d reached the center of the labyrinth, where a bench sat. They collapsed onto it to catch their breaths, still giggling like children. Set off from the party and the only visitors to the labyrinth as they were, it was quiet around them, though Snufkin still had mad streaks of color at the edges of his vision from where they’d danced past flowers. 

He was still holding Moomin’s paw.

Moomin looked up at him with a flushed face and beaming grin, then ducked down to the side of the bench to pluck a single sky-blue blossom. Carefully, with surprising concentration, Moomin stuck it into the brim of Snufkin’s hat.

“There!” The Moomintroll exclaimed, admiring his handiwork. “Now you look properly festive.”

It was quiet for a moment, the both of them just smiling, close from where Moomin had leaned in to place the flower. Their sides were pressed together on the small bench, their hands still clasped. The air smelled like flowers and young grass and fresh earth. The sun overhead was mellow and warm, and Moomin was even warmer.

Snufkin thought the moment was rather perfect.

Moomin looked at him for a long moment and, though still smiling, something shifted subtly in his expression. Something serious. Something weighty and yearning and difficult to place. Something that made Snufkin’s heart beat double time.

Then his eyes dipped down to Snufkin’s lips and he leaned forward, just a breath. It was barely a second, barely a movement, and then it was gone, Moomin leaning back suddenly and looking away. But Snufkin had seen it.

Had Moomin been about to kiss him?

At his side, Moomin was blushing again, and before Snufkin could so much as blink, he’d leapt up from the bench, letting go of Snufkin’s hand and whirling away.

“Yes,” Moomin started, too loud, before clearing his throat and starting again. “Well, we’d better get back to the party.”

“Right,” Snufkin heard himself answer, somewhat distantly. He’d meant to be keeping things normal for Moomin, but he was still stuck on what had been about to happen.

He followed Moomin back into the labyrinth, but the walk back was a more somber affair. More like Snufkin’s quiet solo journeys. Moomin was twitchy and nervous at his side, but Snufkin needed time to think.

Was he right about what Moomin was about to do? He could be mistaken, but it was pretty hard to misinterpret those signs. And if not, what did this mean?

Moomin … liked him? Of course Moomin liked him. Moomin was kind and wonderful and liked almost everybody. Moomin was his best friend. Moomin had painted Snufkin on an egg. He had been thinking of him when he wasn’t there, even at a party surrounded by all his friends. Moomin missed him when he went away and still greeted him like a gift every Spring when he returned.

Moomin … Moomin might love him. It thrilled him just to consider. He couldn’t be sure, of course, and there was so much to think about, but just the chance. He hadn’t thought there would ever be a chance. He’d known his own feelings for Moomin for years, but hadn’t let himself hope they might be returned.

A smile fought its way onto his face, despite himself, and that was when he remembered poor Moomin, marching along beside him in awkward silence. Snufkin had time to figure out what to do next. For now, his best friend needed him.

“Come on, Moomin, race you to the entrance?” he challenged through his incorrigible smile.

At that, Moomin perked up. “Oh, you are so on!”

As they scrambled up the spiraling path, laughing and hollering all the way, Snufkin held tight to the blue flower pinned to his hat and tucked that one perfect moment into a corner of his heart for safekeeping. The place he kept golden memories of Moominvalley to take out and warm himself with in the depths of isolated winter. The place increasingly filled with snapshot of a certain soft white Moomintroll.


	4. Beltane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It certainly doesn't feel like Beltane, what the whole apocalyptic quarantine going on, but here's my humble offering of a celebration for my favorite holiday. Hope you're all staying sane and staying safe. Moominmamma would want you to stay home when you can and social distance!

Snufkin knew he could be difficult.

It wasn’t that he tried to be. It’s just that he had his ways — whether they were Mumrik ways or just Snufkin ways — and he was perfectly content to stick to them, letting people freely into and out of his life as they found those ways suited them, or didn’t.

Of course, when he’d found Moominvalley, when he’d found the Moomins, he’d let it shape his ways somewhat. But part of what he loved so much about them was the ways they’d come to understand and appreciate him for what he was, with all of his particular ways. He hadn’t always fit in easily with their own habits, but they’d always found ways to make room for him with patience and acceptance and no pressure.

None moreso than Moomin, of course. He’d struggled when they were younger with Snufkin’s need for space, for freedom, for winter travel. For occasional solitude, when it seemed Moomin would be content to spend his every free moment at Snufkin’s side (and wasn’t that a sweet thought). But he’d always done his best to honor their differences, to be supportive of Snufkin’s needs, and over the years he had grown and changed so much to fit into Snufkin’s particular shapes, in ways that had been difficult to see without the clarity of hindsight.

But Snufkin saw them now. And he also saw that he’d perhaps failed to make the same effort. Promising to return to Moominvalley every Spring had been a grand gesture at first, sure, but it had been as much for his own benefit as for anyone else’s. If there were smaller ways he’d softened and allowed over the years for his closest friend, they seemed paltry in comparison to the effort Moomin had made for him.

If they were really going to be together, romantically, as partners — and stars, but Snufkin hoped they would be — then Snufkin would need to prove he could fit into Moomin’s life the same way that he had fit himself into Snufkin’s. He would need to show Moomin that he was worth it.

Snufkin would need to challenge himself, to reach outside of his comfort zone, to do this whole confession thing in a way Moomin would appreciate and understand. Which meant public and parties and grand gestures and other things Snufkin wasn’t always comfortable with. Like asking for help with something deeply personal.

See, he had a plan. But to pull it off, he’d need Moominmamma’s help. He wasn’t nervous to ask her, not exactly. He knew Moominmamma already thought of him as part of the family. She’d always loved and nurtured him, and certainly wouldn’t reject him or turn him away. He was (mostly) confidant she would be less than surprised, even pleased, to find out his feelings for Moomin.

And it wasn’t that the favor was some extravagant thing, though he knew her well enough to know Moominmamma would actually appreciate the challenge of a large favor for someone she cared about. He did hate having to rely on others, at least so much as he didn’t want to be a burden when he can handle things himself, but he knew she would be happy to help, and it was certainly not something he could do for himself. So no, he wasn’t nervous he’d be turned away.

It was just the asking. It was how much he’d be giving away, how much he’d be saying just with the simple request. She’d surely know everything he’s planning and all that it meant as soon as he asked this one favor. The whole thing felt … precarious. Monumental.

Or perhaps he was just worried that having another person know would make it real, would commit him to his plan with no option to back out. It was that thought that pushed him through the door to Moominhouse on one warm afternoon in late Spring.

Moomin and the others were out on some adventure or another that Snufkin had begged out of, and even Moominpappa was napping in a hammock behind the house. It was just Moominmamma left, puttering around the sunny kitchen and humming happily.

_Now or never, Snufkin._

“Moominmamma, I need your help with something. Something important. Can I ask a favor?”

“Of course, dear.,” Moominmamma assured him, putting down the dish she had been drying to give him her full attention. “Anything I can help you with, you know that.”

Snufkin leaned against the clean wood of the kitchen counter and took a deep breath, trying not to fidget. “I’m … planning on going to the May Day festival this year. But I don’t really have anything to wear. Do you think you could make me a new shirt for the occasion?”

He could feel the flush growing on his neck, painfully aware that she’d offered to make him new clothes numerous times before, and he’d always refused. That he’d always avoided any obligation to dress formally before. That he’d never paid particular attention to this festival before, and in fact had mostly avoided the raucous celebration. 

Moominmamma was looking at him with a twinkle in her eye, entirely too knowing as he’d known she would be. When she speaks, her voice is gentle but also obvious. “Is this year’s May Day going to be special for reason?”

“I hope so,” he answered honestly.

Snufkin looked down at the colorful basket of fruits on the kitchen counter next to him, bracing himself for her soft teasing, or maybe just endless questions. But she just hummed and said, “I’d be delighted to make you some clothes, Snufkin.”

He smiled up at her, still a little shy but mostly relieved. At least until Moominmamma dusted off her hands on her striped apron and looked at him appraisingly.

“But you’ll have to let me make you a pair a pants to go with it, of course, to be a proper May Day outfit. Now you be a dear and stand still while I take some measurements.”

She left and returned with a tape measure, and Snufkin obligingly stood still and placed his limbs in various formations as she measured. It was a pleasant kind of silence as she worked, the comfortable kind he liked best, and the only question she asked was if he had any preferences for how the outfit should look. Snufkin thought for a moment, and then told her to make whatever she thought would look best. She certainly knew better than him.

It wasn't too long before she rolled up her tape measure and patted his shoulder. “That should do it, dear. I should have no trouble making you something nice in time for the festival. Now, is this the kind of favor one should to keep to herself?”

“I was hoping to keep it a surprise.” The _for Moomin_ was understood at this point.

She smiled at him again, warm and crinkle-eyed. “Of course. Then why don’t you come over to Moominhouse the evening of the festival, and I’ll help you get ready?”

It was more than he’d intended to ask, but he found he couldn’t say no, not with the way his chest filled with warmth at the offer and the open affection on her face. His throat felt a little thick as he said, as genuinely as he could, “Thank you, Moominmamma. For everything.”

He was not entirely surprised when she swept him into a warm, fluffy hug. “Anytime, Snufkin, sweetheart. And good luck with your surprise.”

The days until the festival went too slow and too fast. So he kept his head down, focused fishing and walks and resolutely not thinking about new shirts or bonfire festivals or surprises. Or how surprises sometimes didn’t go as planned.

The day of the festival, Snufkin woke before dawn from sheer nerves. Instead of his normal morning routine, he sat in the open doorway of his tent, wrapped in his blanket, and watched Snorkmaiden sneak out into the early morning mist of the fields. She stopped to wash her face with dew gathered from the sleeping flowers — an old tradition said to ensure beauty and love for the coming year — and then promptly headed back inside for what Snufkin assumed was a few more hours of sleep.

When the day had finally broken proper, Snufkin got himself ready only slightly haphazardly and went up to Moominhouse to help Moominpappa and Snork kindle the two large bonfires in front of the house. Those two would tend to and feed the fires all day to keep them roaring through the celebration that night. In some past years, Snufkin had volunteered for the role of fire keeper, only partially to avoid the majority of the loud, energetic party. But tonight, he had other plans. Plans that would put him right in the center of basically everyone from Moominvalley, and even visitors from nearby towns.

No pressure.

Snufkin did his best to take part in the usual fun they came up with during the day as they waited for the festival: making flower crowns and garlands, decorating Moominhouse (and even Snufkin’s tent) with greenery, tying ribbons to tree branches to make wishes, floating flowers in the stream for the water spirits, and leaving little gifts of honey and rowan crowns for the fairies. 

He held it together all the way through their picnic lunch of fresh bread and honeyed oatmeal and sugared-flower cookies, all his friends sitting together on the sweet grass and talking excitedly about that night, before he had to make his excuses and get some air.

There was nothing left to plan. He had no grand speech to practice. That wasn’t really his style. But he was sure his actions would speak for themselves well enough. He just needed to make it to the celebration tonight without losing his nerves.

In the late afternoon, with the sun mellow and warm high above them, Snufkin watched from his seat by the stream as Moomin, Snorkmaiden, Sniff and Little My danced the Maypole in the field. They giggled as they weaved and tucked and wound the bright strands of ribbon tighter and tighter around the towering pole topped with a bright spray of flowers. One of the visiting musicians had arrived earlier and was playing a stringed instrument to accompany their own spontaneous Spring melodies.

It was a lovely sight. It was also the perfect distraction. Snufkin took the opportunity to sneak away unnoticed to Moominhouse, where he found Moominmamma finishing up the food for that night’s party.

“Oh, Snufkin, there you are!” She exclaimed the moment she saw him, sweeping him by the arm into one of the guest rooms. “Come right along, we’ll get you all fixed up for tonight.”

Snufkin cleared his throat as he let himself get swept along. “Thank you, Moominmamma, but I don’t want to take you away from your cooking. I know you have a lot to do. You can just show me where the new clothes are.”

When she laughed, it was more of a giggle, and Snufkin hadn’t heard her this excited about anything in a while. “Nonsense, I’ve got everything handled,” she dismissed him with a wave of her paw. “I’d love to help you get ready, if you’d let me.”

How could he possibly say no to Moominmamma? And besides, in for a penny, in for a pound as they say. “Okay,” he agreed with a steadying breath, “I’d like that. I don’t really know how to dress for a festival …”

Moominmamma peered at him more seriously. “You don’t have to dress any sort of way you don’t want to, Snufkin.”

He smiled sheepishly, fiddling with the frayed green edge of his tunic. “I know, Moominmamma. But I’d like to … Try something new? Just for tonight.”

She smiled so warmly it could melt the midwinter snow drifts. “Well, I’m certain it will be a good surprise no matter what.”

Snufkin submitted himself to her machinations, determined to let Moominmamma do whatever she wanted to “clean him up.” She ran a bath and laid out his new clothes, taking the old ones (and probably using the opportunity to sneak in a good wash). She left him to bathe and get dressed, and he had to admit the warm soak was nice, even though he rarely indulged. He even made sure to scrub his tawny hair extra well.

Freshly cleaned, Snufkin finally turned to the fabric laid out and waiting for him. The clothes Moominmamma had made him were stiff with newness and strange, but he had to admit they were impressive. A pair of plain black pants out of some fine but sturdy material paired well with the clean white shirt, its collar and sleeves decorated with detailed floral embroidery in bright reds and greens. They fit him perfectly, if tighter than his usual tunic.

Snufkin fiddled with the shiny buttons on his sleeves for a long moment, feeling out of his element and maybe a bit ridiculous in such formal clothes, but eventually he padded out into the living room for inspection.

“Oh, Snufkin, how handsome a figure you cut!” Moominmamma exclaimed when she saw him. But something of his discomfort must have shown on his face, because she continued gently, “But I won’t be the least bit offended if they don’t suit you, of course.”

“No, no, Moominmamma. They’re beautiful,” he assured her, genuine, smoothing his hands over the blooming stitches across his chest. “I’m so grateful for all the work you must have done. These are very fine clothes.”

“I was happy to do it, my dear. Now, let me see …” She hummed contemplatively as she fluttered around him, tucking in his shirt, adjusting his collar and combing his stubborn hair. With her patient attention, his hair dried into soft curls around his ears, and when Moominmamma produced a flower crown made of matching red blossoms and dark green leaves, Snufkin even agreed to forgo his hat for the evening.

When she brought his boots (as clean as she could get them) and had inspected his outfit for the last time, finding everything to her liking, she gave him another one of those secret smiles and tucked something into his hand. “I thought you might need this tonight.”

It was a length of silky ribbon, in the bright red color traditional to the May Day festival. Snufkin, feeling the bright blush blossoming across his face, found he had nothing to say.

Moominmamma just patted his hand again. “You stay here until you’re feeling up to joining the party, dear. No rush. I’ve got to go get the food out on the tables.”

With that, she was gone. Snufkin would have liked to have offered to help her with the set up, but that would have ruined the surprise. And he was sure he wasn’t ready to face anyone else yet anyway.

Looking down at the unassuming red ribbon in his hand, hearing the music start up outside Moominhouse, Snufkin sank down to sit on the edge of the guest bed and wondered if he could really go through with this.

* * *

For what felt like the tenth time that night, Moomin shook his head to rouse himself from wandering thoughts. Here he was, surrounded by friends and family, by music and food and dancing, at the most raucous festival of the year, and he couldn’t stop getting distracted.

He told himself he wasn’t looking for Snufkin, or thinking about Snufkin, and that was fine. He was just relieved that things had been easier between them the last two months, back to the way they’d always been. He didn’t need Snufkin to come to a party he usually barely tolerated, too bright and loud and crowded for the wanderer. Even if that festival was traditionally a time for romance. For couples.

Which they weren’t. So this was fine.

Moomin was going to drink spring wine and dance with his friends and resolutely ignore that twist of wistfulness in his chest every time he looked at the bonfire.

He was grateful when Snorkmaiden and Sniff dropped next to him where he was seated on the grass near the fires, chattering about the treats they’d brought over and how beautiful the decorations looked this year. Everyone had gone all out this year, covering everything with ribbons and flowers, including themselves.

Snorkmaiden offered him one of the bracelets she’d made, soft ribbons with bells braided into them. Moomin took his with a grin, admiring the way the gold of the little bells matched the yellow and pink flower crown he’d made himself.

It was fun, leaning back and sipping from the honey wine Snorkmaiden had brought him, stealing bites of pastries from Sniff’s plate, watching Little My dart between dancing people’s feet. Moomin managed to stay in the moment, right up until his eyes got caught on the fluttering of a lavender ribbon trailing from someone’s flower crown.

He’d held a similar colored ribbon earlier that day, tied it around the budding branches of a tree and made a wish. He’d thought for a moment about wishing for Snufkin to return his feelings, but it had felt wrong, to wish for more than Snufkin would naturally give, especially when his friendship was such a treasure already. So he’d wished simply that they stayed close forever.

It’s the distraction of this memory that kept him from noticing when Snufkin first entered the party, until he heard Snorkmaiden gasp next to him and point across the crowd. He spotted him then and sat up like a bolt from his sprawl beside the fire, ready to call out for his friend, surprised and excited to see him there. But the word died on his tongue as he took in what he was actually seeing.

Snufkin, true. But not like he’d ever seen him. He was wearing new clothes, shockingly clean and form-fitting and beautifully decorated. His hair was loose, no hat to be found, curly and soft and catching a golden glow from the great bonfires. His head was ringed in crimson flowers and there was a strange, stiff look on his face, but to Moomin, he looked like something straight out of a story book.

Snufkin paused at the edge of the party, looking distinctly lost, but the second his eyes landed on Moomin, he started moving with a purpose, making a beeline for their group. Distantly, Moomin heard Snorkmaiden and the others call out to greet him and compliment his new look, but Moomin couldn’t focus on anything but the purposeful look on his best friend’s face as he headed right for him.

“Sn-Snufkin, wow,” he managed to croak out when Snufkin got close, but any more words were stuck in his closed throat as his face heated up with the repeating thought of just how _handsome_ Snufkin looked. Oh stars, what was he going to do?

Thankfully, he didn’t have to do anything. Snufkin stopped right in front of Moomin, with barely a nod to their gathered friends. He stood straight, almost formally, still staring down with that strangely serious look in his eye. And then he held out his hand to where Moomin sat, agog.

“Moomintroll. Would you … join me?” Snufkin asked, his voice not hesitant so much as weighty. Was he asking for a dance? It was then that Moomin finally saw what was clutched in the hand Snufkin held out to him. A red ribbon.

Snufkin wasn’t just asking for a dance.

Moomin stared at the ribbon, mouth hanging open, brain desperately trying to catch up. Could he really be asking what Moomin thought he was asking? But what else could it mean? On May Day night, couples would often leap over the bonfires holding each side of a red ribbon, to bless their relationship for the coming year.

Only couples. Romantic couples. Asking someone to leap the bonfire with you had long been a traditional way to declare your intentions, to them and the community. Snorkmaiden had often recounted the stories to him, sighing at the romance of it all, and Moominvalley had seen a few couples declare themselves that way.

And now, Snufkin wanted to do the same. To declare his intentions. His romantic intentions. For Moomin. Before all of Moominvalley.

Moomin looked up from the ribbon in his hand to Snufkin’s face. He could see the embarrassment in the faint blush across his cheeks (public spectacles weren’t exactly his thing, but here he was, for _Moomin_ ) and what must be nervousness in the pinched corners of his eyes. But he didn’t see hesitation. Not a trace of doubt. As usual, when Snufkin decided to do something, he was all in.

Moomin had probably only been silent for a second or two in reality, but it felt like enough time for Moomin’s whole world to shift, and he still felt as though he was moving through molasses as he reached out to clasp Snufkin’s hand, even as his heart kicked into overdrive.

Moomin had to swallow thickly before he could manage, “Of course, Snufkin.” But then Snufkin was pulling him to his feet and beaming at him brighter than the roaring fires behind him, brighter than the midday sun, and Moomin couldn’t say what he was doing except that he was beaming back just as brightly. 

It was only when Snufkin tugged him over to one of the bonfires and slid his hand down to one end of the red ribbon that the sounds of the party around them filtered back into Moomin’s awareness. The music was still playing along jauntily, like the whole world hadn’t just changed, and the crowd was milling and talking and laughing as usual, but Moomin was sure at least a few of those murmuring conversations were about them.

He glanced back just once, just for a second, to see his friends watching with huge smiles and Snorkmaiden practically swooning with hands over her chest, starry-eyed at the romantic display. Then Moomin looked over at Snufkin, his green eyes glowing gold in the firelight, freckles like constellations on his pale skin, and waited for his nod.

With a whooping exclamation, they ran at the bonfire full speed. Clutching tight to his end of the ribbon, Moomin leaped over the dancing flames, heart in his throat, chest so light he felt like he might never land, like he could simply take flight. But they did land, on the other side of the fire, safe and in one piece and still holding the crimson ribbon connecting them for all to see.

Moomin barely heard the whole party erupting into applause and cheers as he turned to Snufkin, laughing, and pulled him into a fierce hug. Snufkin clutched him back just as fiercely, giggling softly into the space between them.

Over Snufkin’s shoulder, Moomin caught a glimpse of Moominmamma and Moominpappa, arms around each other, watching them with proud smiles. The cheers around them rose again and turned into singing, a spontaneous dance breaking out around the fires in celebration. Moomin soaked in the moment, warmth and family all around them, but eventually even he was overwhelmed.

He tugged Snufkin by the arm to the edge of the party, thankful that their friends understood their need for a quiet moment and didn’t try to follow. Just outside the flickering circle of light from the bonfires, reveling in the evening breezes cooling overheated skin, Moomin laughed again, entirely breathless, and leaned against Snufkin’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“I’m glad you did it with me.”

“Of course, Snufkin.” Moomin slid his paw down to where Snufkin still held the ribbon and wrapped it around both. “Only, you did mean it, right? I mean, the _traditional_ way.”

He watched Snufkin wrinkle his nose from the corner of his eye, but the effect was ruined by his irrepressible smile. “You know how I feel about traditional ways of doing things,” Snufkin teased, "but I thought this time I’d make an exception.”

Snufkin pulled them down to sit in the cool grass, and they leaned together and looked back into the party, watching the dancers spiral around and between the great fires.

“You didn’t have to do all this. In front of everyone. They were all so surprised!” Moomin crowed, giggling at the memory. Then, softer: “You even dressed the part.”

Snufkin hummed that ponderous noise of his, but his words were clear. “I wanted to make sure you understood.”

It was Snufkin’s way of showing how much he cared. Doing things the way Moomin would do them, the way Moomin would want. Making it perfect for him, even if it was a challenge for Snufkin. 

“I do,” Moomin promised. “And thank you. For all of it.”

The quiet that followed was oddly shy, but not uncomfortable, as they clutched at each other’s hands and beamed at each other like idiots. It was Snufkin who broke it this time, with a sly, “So, you like the outfit?”

“Hmmm,” Moomin teased, pretending to think. “It’s certainly lovely. But I think I prefer the usual Snufkin.”

Snufkin laughed, deep and easy. “Well, perhaps for special occasions, then.”

“Perhaps.” Moomin leaned further into Snufkin, curling his tail shyly around his waist and sighing happily. Maybe on May Day, even unvoiced wishes came true.


End file.
